


Kindred Spirits

by sylvaine



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cover Art, Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Fanmix, Inspired by Music, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Translation Welcome, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvaine/pseuds/sylvaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fanmix focusing on Sherlock & John's relationship in Season 1 (and beyond), and 14 drabbles inspired by each of the songs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Spirits

  


 

  
  


  


 

[Download link here at my DW journal](http://sylvaine.dreamwidth.org/1859.html)  


 

  


  
  


  
**1\. The Beatles:** _ **Tomorrow Never Knows**_ (Sherlock)

_Turn off your mind, relax,_

_And float downstream_

_It is not dying_

_It is not dying  
 _

_Or play the game_

_Existence to the end_

~*~

Sherlock has nothing on, and the boredom is threatening to suffocate him. He’s been refreshing his website every few seconds since today morning, hoping for an interesting case. There’s only been a granny asking about her cat. He’d been able to solve that one within half a minute.

He remembers the drugs, the mindless euphoria of the morphine and the excitement projected onto the world by the cocaine, and he is so very tempted. He knows where he could get them, knows a dealer who –

No, he thinks sharply.

Losing control of the game is more terrible than any boredom.

~*~

**2\. Del Amitri:** _ **Nothing Ever Happens** _ (John)  
 _  
Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all_

_The needle returns to the start of the song_

_And we all sing along like before_

_And we'll all be lonely tonight and lonely tomorrow_

~*~

“Nothing happens to me,” John tells his psychologist, but really, that isn’t what bothers him. He’s used to long stretches of boredom from Afghanistan, endless days in the sweltering heat of the desert, travelling down dusty roads into the heart of madness.

No, worse than the boredom is his total disillusionment with the civilian life he had craved so desperately, not all that long ago.

Worse even is the loneliness, the alienation from all he had held dear, all the things he had thought were important to him, before that fateful gunshot, before the stabbing pain, before the all-enshrouding blackness.

~*~

**3\. McFly:** _ **Don’t Stop Me Now**_ (Sherlock)  
 _  
Tonight I’m gonna have myself_

_A real good time_

_I feel alive_

_And the world turning inside out, yeah_

_I’m floating around in ecstasy,_

_So don’t stop me now_

_Don’t stop me_

_‘Cause I’m having a good time, having a good time_

~*~

Yes, Sherlock thinks fiercely when he sees the police lights down in Baker Street. I was just wondering what to do now that I’ve solved the riding crop case.

He barely restrains himself till Lestrade is gone, but then he can no longer contain his excitement.

“Brilliant!” he exclaims. “Four serial suicides and now a note. Ah, it’s Christmas!”

He rushes downstairs, barely acknowledging his visitor, mind in a whirr, creating and discarding theories at lightning speed. Thank God for the Yard’s incompetence, he thinks to himself as the euphoria of a case chases away the creeping tendrils of boredom.

~*~

**4\. Adam Lambert:** _ **Pick U Up** _ (Sherlock/John)

_Tiny minded two-toned suckers_

_Same old faces make me shudder_

_Countless times I've screamed 'oh brother!'_

_Where are you?_

_All my life, I've been waiting_

_Pass my time, procrastinating now_

_It's a trip I'm a flip_

_And flash right through the scene_

_Can't you see what I mean?_

~*~

John doesn’t hesitate for even a moment.

“Oh God yes,” he breathes, and then they’re off, Sherlock so excited like it really is Christmas.

And then they’re chasing a cab with a murder suspect through the streets of Soho, and he’s never had so much fun in his life.

They fall into easy patterns almost immediately, like they’ve known each other for years, like he’s secretly been waiting for this one person all his life.

When he’s standing in an empty school, watching Sherlock standing in another building, watching him about to take a probably deadly pill, he doesn’t hesitate.

~*~

**5\. Alanis Morissette: _All I Really Want_ ** (Sherlock/John)  
 _  
Do I stress you out_

_My sweater is on backwards and inside out_

_And you say how appropriate_

_I don't want to dissect everything today_

_I don't mean to pick you apart you see_

_But I can't help it_

_There I go jumping before the gunshot has gone off_

~*~

Sherlock knows it sometimes bothers John, how much Sherlock knows about him, but he can’t help it: his mind always observes and deduces:

Light, almost fluffy hair: John washed his hair today; pen marks on John’s hand: the computer in his office at the hospital was broken and he had to write everything manually; John is wearing a dressy shirt and suit: he’s going out; John’s smile when he announces he’s going out with Sarah doesn’t reach his eyes: their relationship is going downhill, and despite John’s efforts, it won’t last a month.

He doesn’t share his conclusions with John.

~*~

**6\. Dar Williams:** _ **Close to My Heart**_ (John)

_I never had a friend as close as you_

_So close to my heart_

_I dropped everything when you came through_

_So close to my heart_

_And I put my pens and my paint box aside_

_Oh so close to my heart_

~*~

Whatever John says in public, he’s Sherlock’s friend, he admits it to himself. There’s no other word for their relationship, even though ‘friendship’ doesn’t really fit either. How could it? Everything Sherlock does is different from the norm.

But, really, what is it about Sherlock that draws John in like this? Anyone else would have left ages ago, with the casual disregard Sherlock shows for John’s time and property and self-respect. But John doesn’t leave. Instead, every time Sherlock calls him, he’s there, ready to do whatever Sherlock wants.

No, ‘friend’ isn’t it exactly. It’s just the label that’s closest.

~*~

**7\. Barenaked Ladies:** _ **Falling for the First Time**_ (Sherlock/John)  
 _  
I'm so cool, too bad I'm a loser_

_I'm so smart, too bad I can't get anything figured out_

_I'm so brave, too bad I'm a baby_

_I'm so fly, that's probably why it_

_Feels just like I'm falling for the first time_

~*~

Bloody hell, why must Sherlock always be different? He’s been straight all his life, goddammit. And now – now this has crept up on him, and dammit, it’s no longer friendship on his part. How could he not realise earlier and stop himself from falling? Now it’s far too late.

\--

Back at uni, Sherlock spent a few months studying sexual and romantic relationships. He concluded they were utterly unnecessary.

This, though, is new. Sherlock doesn’t do this kind of thing, and he does his best to stop it.

He’s beginning to understand why people call it falling in love. It’s unstoppable.

~*~

**8\. Apocalyptica:** _ **Harmageddon**_ (John)

_(Instrumental)_

~*~

The last thing John remembers: someone grabbing him from behind, and then the cloying smell of chloroform. His last thought before everything turns black: not again.

His first thought when he wakes up: good, it doesn’t feel like a concussion. The first thing he notices: the heavy mess of wires, white blocks, and blinking lights strapped around his torso.

Oh shit Moriarty now what god please let Sherlock solve this puzzle in time is what he thinks then.

“Oh look, the little pet is awake,” a soft voice croons. John swallows and turns to meet the eyes of Molly’s boyfriend.

~*~

**9\. Hammerfall:** _ **Last Man Standing**_ (Sherlock)

_Glorious, noble in my mind_

_Everything a fight to win_

_Taking all and giving_

_Whatever my pride would let me_

_Not backing down not giving in_

_I wouldn’t lose I couldn’t  
 _

_Seeing clearer what’s at stake_

_and the things I have to change_

_I just hope I can it's not to late_

_To get a chance to end this_

~*~

Sherlock enters the pool, danger buzzing and alive in his veins. He’s tense, but unafraid. He knows he’ll win.

And then John is there, a bomb strapped around his torso, and Sherlock’s no longer self-confident, he’s frantically looking for snipers and escape routes and where is Moriarty –

Moriarty comes and goes, and he’s not just intelligent, he’s insane, and Sherlock cannot believe his luck he let us go, he let John go –

And then Moriarty re-enters the scene and Sherlock has only one chance to set this mess right. This will work, he tells himself.

Then he pulls the trigger.

~*~

**10\. Rage and Symphonic Orchestra Prague:** _ **All This Time**_ (John)  
 _  
Now, as I had a look at you_

_It took a heartbeat and I knew_

_That the candle of my life was burning shorter…  
 _

_All this time while we talked my thoughts collided_

_All this time I could have seen but I was blind_

~*~

A niggling suspicion settles in John’s mind at Sherlock’s betrayed, disbelieving look when John steps out of the cubicle.

It solidifies when Sherlock rips off the semtex strapped to John before even running after Moriarty.

Oh, he thinks. Does – does he love me too…?

Has Sherlock realised? John wonders. He’s incredibly observant, yes, but also rather inexperienced when it comes to actual, deep emotions beyond excitement, boredom or frustration.

But then Moriarty comes back, and there’s no time for idle musings.

Sherlock glances at him. I’m about to die, John thinks calmly.

He nods, and Sherlock gradually lowers the gun.

~*~  
 **  
11\. Loney, Dear –** _ **I Am John**_ (Sherlock)

_Johnny and I, we got lost tonight, we got carried away_

_It takes someone like me to lose track like that, to be troubled down,_

_Got a heart full of plans but nowhere to run_

_There were seventeen dogs out to track us down_

_And I got some bruises and I got a scar but now,_

_Never gonna let you down,_

_And I got it wrong…_

~*~

The nurses have finally given up on Sherlock. Anyhow, he’s only a little bruised. Far more important is John, looking so small and vulnerable with the IV drip in his arm and the ventilator breathing for him. The steady, regular beat of the heart monitor is comforting: John is alive. Barely. And it’s mostly his fault.

He was woefully unprepared for a confrontation with Moriarty. Worse, he’d been so focussed on his own excitement at having a worthy opponent that he hadn’t even considered John until he’d seen him at the pool. ‘I’m sorry, John,’ he mouths. ‘Please wake up.’

~*~

**12\. Poets of the Fall –** _ **Clevermind**_ (John)  
 _  
It's all inside your head_

_Like fragments of a dream you remember_

_So never mind_

_Your clever mind,_

_Never mind me_

~*~

Unusually, John has a better grasp of the situation than Sherlock. Sherlock knows about his own feelings, that’s certain. He can’t know that John reciprocates them, or he would have said something.

John is tired of waiting for Sherlock to get it. He leans forward, lightly touching Sherlock’s cheek. ‘Sherlock,’ he says.

Sherlock freezes. ‘John, I don’t think –’ he starts.

John shakes his head. ‘Tell your brain to shut up just this once, okay? I don’t want to know all the reasons why this is a bad idea. Just – let’s just try.’

Slowly, Sherlock nods and reaches for John.

~*~

**13\. Razorlight –** _ **Wire to Wire**_ (Sherlock)

_What is love but the strangest of feelings?_

_A sin you swallow for the rest of your life?_

~*~

He has never liked emotions, always thought them a waste of time. He likes to think himself above them, a cold, rational mind, everything else just transport. (He pretends to himself that he knows no boredom, no excitement at a new case, no aggravation at the mere sight of Mycroft’s face.) Love is the worst of them all, useless sentimentalism that leads to irrational actions and the loss of personal identity.

So John is all the more amazing. John doesn’t make him weaker; John doesn’t require him to change.

John loves him back; Sherlock burns all the brighter for it.

~*~

**14\. Poets of the Fall –** _ **3AM** _ (Sherlock/John)  
 _  
More than you know it I'm aware_

_Of this connection that we share_

_I know it seems like sometimes I don't care_

_But you are the colours that I wear_

_…_

_3 AM we seemed alright, couldn't be better_

_On our way into the light_

_Now 3 AM is gone, along with when there's nothing wrong_

_3 AM it seemed alright…_

~*~

John lies in bed, so shattered he’s unable to sleep. Sherlock’s curled up next to him, one arm around John’s waist, fast asleep. It’s been a hellish three days, starting with a corpse and ending with a murderous paedophile. Sherlock’s fine with nothing but air and mental stimulation, but John isn’t sixteen anymore; he can’t go three days without sleep. Still, it’s peaceful now, and despite his exhaustion, John doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows exactly that the morning will just bring another case.

But he’s chosen this life, and he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

 

  



End file.
